


Valentine's DA

by IntrovertedWife



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Adorable, F/M, M/M, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Romantic Fluff, Sexy Times, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-26 11:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17744891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntrovertedWife/pseuds/IntrovertedWife
Summary: Some quick adorable stories as the men of Dragon Age try to romance their lovers.





	1. Alistair

Fingers clutching tight to the letter, you ride as fast as you can. It isn’t like Alistair to be so vague, writing little more than “Come here, I need you” followed by the directions on the note left on your bed.

“There, Commander,” Nathaniel calls, pointing down the rolling hills. A tent is nestled beside a lake fed by a bubbling stream. You glance from the stoic man to the other Wardens you scooped up on horseback.

Maker only knew how much trouble Alistair could get into on his own and you might need all the backup you can get.

Clicking your heels, you urge the horse forward taking the lead. While there’s no sign of battle, no blood on the vibrant grass, no darkspawn corpses littering the crystal clear water, your guard is up. Pounding down the winding stones of the small path, the moment you reach the secure grotto you leap from the saddle, barely bothering to rein in the horse.

Snaking your hand under your cloak, you draw your sword. The solid silverite in your hands soothes your rattled nerves but the concern won’t vanish. Where is he?

“I’m going to check the tent,” you shout. Nathaniel already begins to voice his concerns, but you ignore them. Waving it away, you glide the tip of your sword along the tent’s slit trying to get a peek of what’s inside.

The stench of coppery blood doesn’t strike your nose. Instead it smells almost…like an Orlesian house of pleasure, the incense thicker than smoke. Confounded, you step through the flap.

Alistair’s body is not lying in a heap upon the ground.

No, it is standing and completely naked.

His eyes catch yours, a hand awkwardly digging through the strawberry hair. Golden light lances through the tent’s canvas, highlighting not only the freckles dashed off his nude shoulders but every taut muscle working into a shrug.

Your mouth dangles open, your eyes drifting down the strong chest to find a shield placed just before Alistair’s nude hips. A hint of his asscheek is visible from his stance, the curve flexing as he shifts on his naked toes.

Licking his lip, he gives another toss of a shoulder, and asks, “Your tent or mine?”

Spinning in place, you launch your head out through the tent’s gap while holding the sheet tightly around your body to obscure anything inside. “Everyone head back to the Keep!”

“Commander?” Nathaniel pauses, the Wardens just about to dismount themselves.

“That’s an order,” you shout, trying to keep your voice steady even as you feel a hand swoop over your back and dip to cup your ass. “I can handle this myself.” With that final command, you slip back inside.

“Okay?” the Wardens mutter, turning their horses around. As their shadows flee from the secluded grotto, you and Alistair get up to some very naughty tent things.

[The Valentine is courtesy of VoidTakeYou](http://voidtakeyou.tumblr.com/post/182484618427/voidtakeyou-its-that-time-of-year-again-for)


	2. Zevran

After political negotiations all day from Arl Eamon, all you want to do is crawl into your luxurious bed and sleep. Assuming Morrigan and Sten aren’t standing around in the room. Pinching into the bridge of your weary nose, as you approach the door of your accommodations you spot a sprinkling of red dashed against the stone floor.

Blood? It’s not surprising that’s the first thought to enter your mind after the long year you had, but as you wipe the exhaustion from your eyes a new answer and more questions emerge.

Rose petals?

And not as if a fading stem suddenly shed before the door. No, there’s an entire line leading away and deeper into the estate. You turn your head to follow the trail but it vanishes around a bend. Curious, you forget your need to sleep and walk down the red rose road. It begins to thin out by the second turn, a single petal here and there pointing to the next twist in this path. With your head tipped down, your sight upon the ground, you’re barely aware of where you are in Eamon’s estate.

Knights dash past, guards stroll on by without a word, only the servants glare at the floral mess debating who’ll clean it up. No one says a word of explanation as you turn the the last twist past a mabari statue to find the petal trail leading to a closed door. Where even are you?

As you lay your cheek to the door, trying to listen for a hint inside, your eyes dart up and down the hall. But this section is so far removed no one wanders past.

Curiosity winning, you turn the knob and press ever forward.

Candlelight dances against a mass of red satin tumbling from a low bed to the floor. And perched upon that red satin, without a care in the world, is a naked Zevran. “Ah Warden,” he smiles, that taut body stretched out on his side, his head propped up in a hand.

Rising from his reclining state, he swings a foot around to sit perched right upon the edge, still fully naked and still making no excuses for it. Absently, he stirs his hand over the silky blanket, eyes beaming into yours.

“Ze…Zev?” you mutter, your gaze drinking in his lackadaisical stretch.

“You know, it occurred to me, that after all of our rigorous tramping about in this backwater land’s politics…” He licks his lips, hunger burning in those whimsical brown eyes. Patting a hand on the red satin sheets, he growls, “We never once found the time to ‘break’ this place in.”

Smirking, you kick the door closed. “Took you long enough,” you purr, working quickly to shrug off your shirt.

Zev’s hands reach out to help, fingers brushing over every tantalizing offer before him. “Excellent. All I need is you, five feet of rope, and something slippery!”

[The Valentine is courtesy of VoidTakeYou](http://voidtakeyou.tumblr.com/post/182484618427/voidtakeyou-its-that-time-of-year-again-for)


	3. Dorian

Darkness envelops you. Not the spine-tingling, heart quivering, breath hitching kind. Not yet, at least.

“Dor…” you struggle to speak, stumbling at the taller man’s body guiding/pushing you through the room. Warm fingers remain clamped over your eyes, not letting a sliver of light through. Even as your feet scramble across rugs, you delight in the taut body almost grinding against your back.

Until he suddenly pauses and forgets to tell you. His grip clamped to your face while your feet continue to walk forward nearly sends to collapsing to the ground, but he keeps you steady in his arms.

“Wait here,” that delicious accent purrs in your ear.

The hands lower off your eyes, your lids rising, when a finger waggles in your face. “And no peeking. Maker knows you are the worst at following directions.”

“Me?” You laugh at such an absurd idea. Still, your eyes remain closed tight as you listen to a scuffling. Dorian’s voice floats around a echoing room. But despite the stones it’s not chilly. You dare say it’s rather warm all things considered.

“Yes, you, Inquisitor. Man who never has to take a single direction while drowning us in them. You, cast that spell, you swing that sword, you…stand there and look pretty.”

You hear the sound of fabric falling, then something liquid being poured. Dorian continues to bustle about in a frenzy even as you playback his words. “Who’s pretty?”

“Your Commander, naturally.”

Rolling your eyes behind your lids, you mutter, “I’m sure Cullen will be delighted to hear you said that.”

There’s more. The scent of brimstone fills the air, and sure enough a second later you hear Dorian’s personal fire spell. “What are you doing?”

“Wait and see. You southerners have no patience,” his voice stopped drifting around the room and at least seemed to be in one place. Progress?

Another smell bubbled over the brimstone, this one of sparkling wine and rose petals, and you’d swear you could hear a bubbling spring inside this room.

“Very well, Inquisitor. You may open your eyes.”

Whiteness stings at first, your hand raising to shield yourself, as dancing candles come into focus. Over two dozen of them. In the corner, you spot a bathtub filled nearly to the brim, rose petals dancing on the bubbles. Below the tub rests a pair of wine flutes and the just uncorked bottle, condensation dripping down the sides.

“Given the holiday,” Dorian spoke, “I wanted to get you the best present in thedas.”

Your eyes swing away from the relaxation escape to find his glistening naked body curled on his side. A hand dangles off the crimson sheets, fingers enveloped around a rose. Placing the flower to his nose, he breathes in the heady scent. “And there’s nothing more perfect than me.”

[The Valentine is courtesy of VoidTakeYou](http://voidtakeyou.tumblr.com/post/182484618427/voidtakeyou-its-that-time-of-year-again-for)


End file.
